Those planning a trek to South Dakota's Mount Rushmore these last several weeks of summer will be among 3 million who annually visit the world-famous sculptures of U.S. presidents. Most will swell with patriotic pride as they stand on a marbled deck under flowing flags at the "shrine to democracy."
The place brings Americans "face to face with a rich heritage we all share," says the National Park Service.
The carved visages are iconic Americana, appearing in a gazillion media photos and books and travel features, in advertisements and promotions, on U.S. postage stamps in two eras, and on South Dakota's license plate ("Great Faces. Great Places.").
But the back story of Mount Rushmore is hardly a rich history of a shared democratic ideal. Some see the monument in the Black Hills as one of the spoils of violent conquest over indigenous tribes by a U.S. Army clearing the way for white settlers driven westward by a lust for land and gold.
As it was in colonial America, the young country's expansion was fueled by "Manifest Destiny" — a self-supreme notion that any land coveted by Euro-Americans was, by providence, rightfully theirs for the taking.
Completed in 1941, Mount Rushmore has been wildly successful as originally intended: as a tourist attraction to draw visitors to a remote place that otherwise would be largely ignored.
The sculptures were chiseled by an imported Ku Klux Klansman on a granite mountain owned by indigenous tribes on what they considered sacred land — land that the U.S. Supreme Court said in 1980 was illegally taken from them.
In 2012, a United Nations human rights official endorsed returning the Black Hills ("Paha Sapa") to resident Lakota, reviving a debate over whether eligible tribes should accept a cash settlement that tops $1 billion in an interest-bearing account. A prevailing response is that tribes want the land, a basis of the 1973 occupation of nearby Wounded Knee by the Minneapolis-based American Indian Movement.